


Contrition

by ZW9Mari



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Master of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZW9Mari/pseuds/ZW9Mari
Summary: Harry swallowed, head bowed, shoulders hunched. His heart cracked. So in the end it would be her. When he looked up he would meet not the red eyes of a monster, a villain carefully crafted for heroic battles ripe for vanquishing; they would be a warm brown he knew, tinged with fear and resignation.The anger surged within him and he lifted his chin defiantly. If she wanted him dead she would have to look him in the eye while she did it. And met a wave of green light which consumed him.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 36
Kudos: 259





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this will be my first fan fic, so I'm just going to get the ball rolling and see where it goes and edit the tags as I go along. It'll be a do-over fic, trope I know don't hate me for it ;)
> 
> I quite clearly do not own Harry Potter.

Stillness.   
Like a ringing in his ears that is both overwhelming sound and not; a moment outside of time. Then a creeping awareness of the forest sounds, a cool breeze in the clearing caressing his face softly.   
“Is he dead?” a cold, high hissing tone cutting the silence.   
Narcissa made her decision and looked the dark lord straight in the eye. Unwavering. “Yes, my Lord.” 

It hadn’t been enough. Harry had done everything they asked of them. Sacrificed his family, his childhood, he had fought and fought. Sacrificed, killed, died and survived. And it hadn’t been enough! 

Hary walked through the forest, footfalls sounding one after the other, crunching on the undergrowth. There was peace here. Running his fingers over the rough bark of the pines that reached overhead he walked forward. One more footstep, one more breath. In...out, in...out. An unspeakable effort. Deeper into the forest instinct guiding him onward. And there, the clearing an opening in the trees like a song only he still knew the words to. Harry had made it. He had made it! They wouldn’t follow him here. Hunted. Harry Hunting his mind supplied unhelpfully, he gave a soft laugh. Harry sank to the ground the cold of the frost creeping through the knees of his jeans. His fingertips brushing the dirt before closing around the stone, cold and smooth in the crook of his fingers. Relief flowing over him like cold water. 

A snap of a twig breaking. 

“I’m so sorry Harry” her voice soft against his ears. Harry swallowed, head bowed, shoulders hunched. His heart cracked. So, in the end it would be her. When he looked up, he would meet not the red eyes of. a monster, a villain carefully crafted for heroic battles ripe for vanquishing; they would be a warm brown he knew, tinged with fear and resignation. The anger surged within him and he lifted his chin defiantly. If she wanted him dead, she would have to look him in the eye while she did it. And met a wave of green light which consumed him.   
“I’m so, so sorry Harry”   
… 

… 

Stillness. 

He was back in the station. White as far as he could see. Stillness, the ringing was back in his ears. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, thick, black and unruly. Down the back of his neck feeling the trickle of cold sweat that had gathered there. Up and over his face feeling the lines of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the frames of his glasses and the jagged rise of his scar. He closed his eyes. Opened them again, blinking slowly. He was real. This was real. 

“You weren’t ready before young Master” a deep voice spoke behind him. 

Hary jumped in his skin. Looking around sharp enough to crick his neck. Breath caught. “Wasn't ready to hear what? Who are you?” Harry said. “You mean, what am I young master. I am the end of all things. The being that greets each and every soul that passes through this station on their way to where all must go eventually. I am an inevitability a blessing to some and a fear to most.” the voice rumbled. “Look at me young master. Meet my gaze” Harry turned. A man stood there, tall, arms loose at his sides, posture relaxed. The stance of one who has no reason to be wary. He wore a dark cloak, hooded and stark against the white of the station and when Harry raised his eyes to meet the beings gaze, they were black. “You have a choice to make, now that you have experienced more of this world, last of the Peverell's brothers mine. You have gathered and mastered the Hallows, met Death thrice now with innocence, with sacrifice and with defiance.”   
A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. 

“You have questions.” The man said softly.   
“You say I have a choice to make. What choice? I’m dead am I not?” Harry met the man’s eyes unnerved by how they did not blink.“You could be should you so choose. As my master you cannot die by natures hand or another's until you make the choice to pass on. And if I am not mistaken that will not be your choice at this time. Too much to do.” he smirked. “I can return you to your body in the clearing, I would advise you though it would not end well.” 

The breath rushed into Harry’s lungs causing them to seize, his eyes seeing but not as a future flickered by. 

Dust falling from the sky, metallic in his mouth. Hogwarts in ruins, ash and fire. All he could see were the bodies. The cries and pleas of people long gone cold thrumming in his ears. In..out...in...out his lungs choking on poison. It would be a slow death. There was no such thing as an unforgiveable curse now. Avada kedavra was seen as a mercy now “As easy as falling asleep” and he was the last. There would be no such mercy for him. Not now the statute had fallen. 

Harry gasped, eyes watering. He turned to the man with the dark eyes. 

“Your kin have garnered rather too much attention lately” His eyes Still. Not. Blinking. He looked straight back at Harry. “I would grant you a boon young master. I can send you back.” 

“Back?” Harry squinted. “Yes back.” the man sounding rather exasperated now. “Keep up.” 

“Sorry for taking time to acclimate! It’s not every day you get murdered, meet an amortal being and are told the muggles will burn the world now is it?” Harry answered his tone sharp, exasperation rising to meet the others, running his hand across his forehead rubbing absentmindedly at his scar. 

“I suppose so.” said the man. 

“So, you can send me back. Back to when, would I … Wait would I still be me?” 

“Yes, young master. I can make it so you are re-born as your younger self with the knowledge and magic you hold now. A chance for change of your making. A chance for the redemption of your kind and for some an opportunity for contrition.” 

The anger burned within him once more, surging from low in his belly out to his fingertips still caked in the dirt of the clearing floor and itching behind his eyes. “I’ll take it.” And the world went dark. 

… 

… 

Stillness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry re-adjusts to life at the Dursley's and weighs his options

Thump  
Thump  
Thump 

Harry sighed, taking in the familiar smell of cleaning supplies and slightly damp drywall not opening his eyes just yet. So, not exactly reborn then. He probably should have asked more questions. He rolled onto his back taking in the lumps in his oh so painfully familiar too thin mattress.  
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!  
A trickle of dust fell up his nose and he sneezed.  
“Get up Boy!” and there goes Aunt Petunia’s dulcet tones. Harry opened his eyes and smiled. He was _alive _.  
Harry rolled over and changed, tugging of his thin blanket and reaching for the greying t-shirt and too large jeans which he tied with a shoelace round his hips. He made his way to the kitchen; number 4 Privet Drive was just the same. Bright curtains and linoleum flooring a faint smell of disinfectant and air freshener. He began to gather the things to make breakfast, heating the pan to fry the bacon and cracking eggs under the watchful, distrusting gaze of Aunt Petunia. Boiling the kettle to make tea and setting a jug of orange juice on the table, Harry knew better than to antagonize the Dursleys in the morning and he needed to get his bearings. He could handle the Dursleys contempt for now.  
Aunt Petunia huffed quietly behind him, shaking him out of his thoughts. Oh, yup that was the bacon crisping. Uncle Veron harrumphed through his walrus-like moustache as he set it down on the dining table, trying to quietly side eye Vernon’s copy of the Sun newspaper not able to catch the date as Uncle Vernon surreptitiously squinted at the page 3 girl. Harry grimaced. Dudley’s chair squeaked on the linoleum as he pulled it out to settle at the table with his parents. From the hall he heard the sharp click of the letterbox and the soft thump of the mail hitting the doormat. “Dudley get the post.” Uncle Vernon grunted. “Make Harry get it!” Dudley whined in return as he wiggled his seat closer to the table. Harrys head ricocheting between the two in a fog of deja-vu. “Get the mail boy!” Harry startled and hurried to the hall blinking. Then he saw it. The crisp corner of thick yellowed parchment poking out from under the cover of bills and a stack of takeaway menus discarded through their doorway. He ran his finger over the Hogwarts crest, the lion, the snake, the eagle and badger so familiar to him stamped in thick red wax then he turned it over; addressed in green ink in beautiful calligraphy: __

____

_Harry Potter, The cupboard under the stairs, Number 4 Privet Drive, Surrey_

__

_The Cupboard. Under the stairs._ An uncomfortable feeling of indignation rose at the base of his spine on behalf of his younger self who had been so _naïve._ They’d known. Of course, they’d known as the implications had time to percolate through his brain. He could feel his shoulders stiffening but he had to get back to the Dursleys before they could suspect there might be anything unusual in today's post. He moved quietly slipping the thick parchment envelope under the door of his cupboard as he made his way back to the dining room. 

__

Later, sitting in the dark, looking at the broken toy soldiers on the shelf; refugees and veterans from the war against his cousin. Harry absentmindedly ran his fingers over The Letter. It needed to be capitalized in his mind; this had been the letter that had changed his life in his first run. Barreling into his life courtesy of Hagrid's deep pockets and kind eyes he’d been blinded by a birthday cake and the first person who’d had a smile just for him. Did he really want to go back though? That was the question running through his mind as he trailed the index finger of his right hand over the cool red wax of the seal, although it was starting to warm and blur under his touch. He might be eleven in body but he was 22 in mind and he wasn’t sure he could hide that. That he was a good enough actor now to conceal the look of betrayal he would surely feel when he looked at the faces of his old friends with too old eyes. His magic thrummed in response. Too much magic, certainly for an eleven-year-old. He’d always been powerful it turned out. A great deal of his magic roped up in maintaining his body under the brute force of neglect and subconsciously suppressing a horcrux he had never accepted. When he had come back that first time his magic had stretched exponentially. Leaping and growing in great arcs and responsive loops as it became a physical thing that accompanied his presence. That was how the whispers had started. “The next Dark Lord” they’d said where they thought he couldn’t hear him. “What if the horcrux isn’t gone? What if Voldemort is possessing him?” in quiet worried voices with eyes that looked away too quickly and guiltily. All of which he had buried with his instincts because _they were his friends! Surely!_ He was clenching the letter now, hands white knuckled. 

__

That night as he slept his nightmares were of warm brown eyes tinged with fear. 

__

Harry woke early. Oliver Wood quidditch drill early. He still wasn’t certain this was the right decision but as he wandlessly opened his cupboard door allowing his magic to caress the lock he ran through the options in his mind. A missing Harry Potter would cause mass panic and although any conflict with the muggles would be decades in the future, he would need a reputation to steer Magical Great Britain away from disaster. A reputation he wouldn’t gain from popping up like a weed with all the credibility of one of Luna’s nargles he reminded himself.  
That said, Harry thought as he penned his response to Professor McGonagall in the affirmative by the light of the streetlamp shining by the front lawn. He would need to get himself to Gringotts sooner rather than later. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes as he had on his first debut to the wizarding world, not if he planned to make a completely new set of alliances. The Goblins would be a formidable ally. He had no intention of telling them about that one time he stole a dragon.

__


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets the goblins at Gringotts

Diagon Alley was just as he remembered; the hum and bustle of families rushing around, excited young faces leaning up against the window of Broomstix to catch a glimpse of the latest Nimbus 2000, the fog of mixed smells coming from the apothecary and the strange cacophony of sounds coming from Magical Menagerie. Magical. It had lost that vibrancy by the end of the last war, people had moved quietly and fearfully about their business willing themselves not to attract unwanted attention, he was happy to see it again and breathed in the atmosphere deeply. Harry steeled his shoulders and moved forward with the crowd. He had ‘borrowed’ £50 from Aunt Petunia’s purse after Vernon had left for work, Dudley to visit Piers and Petunia to gossip over tea with the lady at Number 7. He would replace it before she noticed. Disguised his scar with muggle concealer and glamoured his hair to a mousey brown, he wanted to stay under the radar for now.   
Up ahead at the end of the street the white marble façade of Gringott’s gleamed tall and imposing reflecting the late summer sun. Two goblins stood guard by the bronze doors of the entranceway spears in hand, faces expressionless. Harry stood tall and schooled his face into a suitably blank mask and made his way through the vaulted gothic arch of the doorway. He stepped up to a counter where a familiar looking goblin was working away diligently, ignoring Harry’s presence with an air of disdain. Harry smiled wryly inside, some things don’t change and the goblins of Gringotts would take every opportunity to subtly snub the wizards whose gold they jealously guarded. So, he waited. When Griphook deigned to look up from his task Harry met those gleaming dark eyes and bowed his head respectfully in greeting. “Greetings master Griphook, may your gold ever flow and your enemies cower at your feet. My name is Harry Potter. As I am not currently in possession of my vault key, I will require an inheritance test before conclusion of my business with Gringotts today.” The goblins prefer you get straight to the point. Masters of brevity the lot of them. Now this raised a calculating look of surprise from the goblin. An eyebrow arched and long fingers drummed over the counter in thought. Harry supposed he did look like a homeless street urchin; etiquette probably didn’t seem like a foregone conclusion. “May your coffers never empty Master Potter. Follow me” Griphook stepped down from his counter and lead the way down a long stone corridor, a stark contrast to the marble and gold of the hallway. They passed door after door before coming to a halt in front of a black painted doorway set deep in the stone. “Ragnok is the head of your account, he will see you now master Potter” Griphook intoned rapping on the wood of the doorway sharply before walking away leaving Harry alone in the corridor. Harry entered.   
“Master Potter. Please take a seat” the goblin said gesturing.   
Harry lowered himself into the offered chair opposite the large mahogany desk, sitting straight, taking in the fierce looking weaponry fixed to the walls surrounding him flickering in the torchlight. A reminder that the goblins could be vicious should they so choose. He looked the goblin directly. “Greetings Master Ragnok, may your gold ever flow.” He paused considering his next words “I find myself in a somewhat unorthodox position and trust the goblin nation’s discretion. For a price of course” Ragnok inclined his head in acknowledgement, eyes slightly narrowed considering the child sat before him. “I offer knowledge in exchange for your aid.” Harry had become well versed in goblin customs in the period following the second war when he had been heavily involved in meetings regarding reparations due for ‘that one time he stole a dragon’ as he liked to refer to it in his mind; and he thought, caused enough property damage to the centuries old building to make a galleonaire wince.   
“A traveler.” rumbled Ragnok. Harry’s eyes widened slightly, now this he had not foreseen. Ragnok tilted his head slightly to the side and explained. “We feel Magic’s shifts more keenly here deep in the earth and have been expecting one such as you for some days now. The Goblin Nation is under no obligation to inform your ministry of the arrival of one such you and you can indeed trust in our...discretion.” He smirked, his eyes reflecting the torchlight. “Your offer is acceptable to us.” Harry held an internal sigh of relief as he waited for the goblin to continue. “It is my belief that we should begin with a blood test to confirm your current identity. This test will confirm your bloodline and inform you of any held inheritances financial or magical.” Ragnok continued as a small white bowl containing an ink-like liquid, delicate silver dagger and a roll of parchment appeared on the desk in front of Harry. “Three drops of your blood into the bowl if you please.” Harry did as asked, carefully sterilizing the dagger afterwards before replacing it carefully in front of him, the goblins eyes following his movements he noted. Harry arched one eyebrow, there were a lot of things that could be done without the consent of a wizard if one was in the possession of his blood, very few of them pleasant. He would not be careless with it, certainly not in the presence of fae. Ragnok poured the mixture in the bowl carefully over parchment and the two waited, watching as the modified ink began to creep out from its point of origin growing over the page like a vine before glowing softly silver and settling.   
Harry pulled the parchment towards him and read more from curiosity than anything he had a suspicion of what he would see there. 

Harry James Potter   
Born July 31st in the year nineteen hundred and eighty   
Mother – Lily Rose Potter nee Evans Father – James Charlus Potter   
Godmother – Alice Longbottom Godfather – Sirius Orion Black   
Magical Guardian – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore   
There was more detail on his maternal and paternal grandparents and further ancestry but Harry skimmed over that for now suppressing the fresh pang of a sorrow that had long since dulled to a bitter aftertaste of betrayal as his fingers ran past Dumbledore’s name.   
Heirships   
Heir Potter – by blood   
Heir Black – by blood 

Lordships   
Lord Slytherin – by conquest   
Lord Gaunt – by conquest   
Lord Peverell Master of Death – by right of Magic 

Harry slid the parchment back across the desk towards Ragnok silently and waited as the goblin read through the details, watching as he stilled, stiffening almost imperceptibly as he reached the end of the parchment. “To business?” the goblin looked back “to business, Lord Peverell.”


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night Harry sat in his cupboard thinking through the events of the day in his mind. A newly acquired gold ring on his finger inset with a smooth cold stone, so black it seemed to absorb rather than reflect light. The visit to Gringotts had been informative. Harry had spoken with the goblin of what he knew and shown him the memory of a future yet to come... _dust falling from the sky, fire and ruins. Dead dead dead … _Ragnok had taken a copy of the memory or vision if you have it to show to the goblin elders for them to consult over. Goblins could sense magic in a deeper way and taste the truth of his words, it was why they never used veritaserum in their interrogations. After that Harry had discussed profitable future investments with the Goblin using his knowledge of which companies would be successful in the upcoming years; the twins would be sure of an investor or two when it came to opening their joke shop. They had gone over the details of his accounts and estates. While Dumbledore had not misused the Potter funds as his magical guardian they were still in a state of neglect.  
Harry had accepted his Peverell lordship and the Potter and Black heirships. The Peverell ring appearing on the desk when called like the others, stripped of the curses previously attached to it by the magic of the bank. He had decided to hold the Gaunt and Slytherin lordships in regency for the moment while he considered. He had to put a halt to the wizarding war fast, he was already in possession of one horcrux. He could hunt down the others and destroy them, he knew where they were. But something was stopping him. A second chance he mused. A second chance...A dark eyed boy sitting rigidly on his cot in a grey room _“tell me the truth!” _distrusted from the start.__  
Having been on the receiving end of Dumbledore’s machinations in a way he understood so much clearer now in hindsight. _How had he not seen! _Harry couldn’t bring himself to hate. He had asked Voldemort at the end for remorse but it had been too late then, he had seen that it was in the snake like eyes burning red and unhinged. The last percent of a soul clinging to life and a purpose lost in a fog of desperation. He couldn’t go to Dumbledore with this. The man clung to his plans with an old man's hubris, he would never hear him out and Harry would be wrapped up in a game where he only held half the cards. He understood now that Dumbledore was a general and Harry a pawn, a toy soldier. To Dumbledore, Harry was never just Harry, a childish hope of his; Harry had been the war to Dumbledore. And Harry was not supposed to survive.  
In the years he had spent after the war Harry had joined the Aurors, fast tracked through his training as Scrimgeor had swept through wizarding society purging it of anything dark. People had been so afraid and the light side had committed atrocities in Harry’s opinion; entire families sentenced to Azkaban and troves of knowledge burned. Harry had felt so useless, this hadn’t been what he’d been fighting for all those months. When he’d tried to protest his voice had fallen on deaf ears. And then the whispers had gotten louder, excuses made on the part of his friends when he hadn’t seen them for weeks “sorry mate, you know how it is yeah?”. Harry had started to isolate himself, holing up in the Black library sequestering himself with only Kreature for company. He had read through page after page on old rituals and forbidden magics, fully aware that it was only his privilege as the boy-who-lived that allowed him the safety to do this without scrutiny. He’d needed to understand. He’d felt so hopelessly ignorant. He had further researched soul magic, a project he’d begun as a way of processing what had happened to him, his experience of being bound to his parent's murderer. He had begun to understand the sheer extent to which Voldemort had damaged himself but where there were ways to break, to split to tear there were also ways to heal. Harry leant back with a loud thunk as he caught his head on the sloped underside of the stairs. Merlin, he was really going to do this wasn’t he. Harry ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing at his forehead. He let out a sigh. Harry motherf**king Potter was going to try to jigsaw the Dark Lord’s soul back together like the man was Humpty Dumpty and not a violent megalomaniacal sociopath with an already dangerous obsession over him.  
Sometimes he hated himself.  
He groaned, rolling onto his side he pulled the sheet over himself and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he thought Hagrid would arrive and he would have his ‘official’ introduction to the wizarding world. He snorted as he imagined the Dursleys faces at being doorstepped by the half giant. Well, that was something to look forward to. He would not allow himself to be used this time. And it wasn’t like he could die anyway he might as well try something different. He could taste ash in his mouth as he drifted off to sleep. His thoughts becoming less coherent as he felt himself being pulled under. In the end Harry thought the man had been right, the muggles were dangerous. They were only human and fear always ends in destruction. He could still hear Ginny’s voice. _“I’m so, so sorry Harry”. _______


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you so much to those who have taken the time to comment and have left kudos. Constructive criticism is always welcomed as I read a lot but haven't written anything before so I'm sure there are conventions I'll miss out on and what can you do but improve.  
> I have a question for you, I've been writing in bursts so each chapter has been c. 1000-1200 words long as I find it a manageable amount but structurally I could have probably condensed the first 4 chapters into one before posting. What sort of length chapter would you prefer to be getting as updates?  
> Cheers!

Harry was awoken by a sharp rap on the door down the hallway. Strange, he thought, disorientated. He fumbled for his glasses and his eyes adjusted to the dark of his cupboard. There it was again. Tap tap tap in quick succession. Harry raised himself up on his elbows. It was early. He felt a chill down the back of his neck, biting cold. 

“I will protect your mind young Master” a deep voice faded into the back of his mind. As the ringing faded in his ears, he heard voices by the door. 

”Tuney” a voice low like velvet 

“You people can’t leave well enough alone” 

“What are you doing here!” 

The voices lowered; Harry couldn’t hear properly any more. He crept closer to his locked cupboard door and heard scuffling then footsteps, the rustle of robes on carpet. 

The door jerked open and Harry fell back, blinded momentarily by the light in the hallway, blinking as his eyes struggled to focus on the man standing in front of him. Snape! Harry felt a rush of elation. The man had never been kind but he had been so brave in his own way and had protected Harry until his dying breath, bleeding out on the floor of the shrieking shack. Harry supposed actually replying to McGonagall's letter would have allowed for a different approach than sending Hagrid on a wild Harry hunt across Great Britain. 

Harry schooled his face into a look of suspicion. Hagrid was one thing, Harry was very fond of the man but he was utterly oblivious on so many levels, with his head so far up Dumbledore’s arse he might as well have been a suppository. Snape on the other hand was anything but, Harry thought as he watched the man take in the state of him and his cupboard; his eyes flickering over the too small cot, bare lightbulb hanging, and most damningly resting on the door where scrawled in red crayon was written ‘Harry’s Room’. 

“Who are you?” Harry demanded keeping any hint of recognition well away from his face. It wouldn’t do to have Snape catching on too quickly and the man was terrifyingly perceptive. Maybe this time he would be able to get out of Summers under the loving care of the Dursleys. The man had sworn to protect him after all. Having acknowledged the state of his home life, returning him to them would surely tug at the man's vow. 

Snape was furious. Harry could see it in the set of his shoulders and the tightening at his jaw. The only time Harry could remember having seen the man’s resolute composure slipping before was that god-awful day he’d snooped in his pensieve. If he had been any less angry there would have been no physical evidence at all. 

“My name is Severus Snape.” he said in a short, clipped tone. “I am a Professor at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. I understand you received your letter.” 

Harry thought for a moment. He wouldn’t be able to pull off wide eyed, innocent and ignorant boy-who-lived. Not under close scrutiny from Severus Snape who would notice if your eyelash twitched in a contradictory direction. Well then, he was going to give them Tom Riddle 2.0 and see how they reacted. 

“It’s magic then? The things I can do? Aunt Petunia says I'm a freak but I'm not. I’m not mad” words tripping over themselves, he did still need to seem like a child. Then quieter, almost inaudibly “I thought the letter was a joke.” 

He could almost see steam coming from the man’s ears, like he’d just taken a pepper-up for some nonexistent cold. “Your parents, surely Headmaster Dumbledore...” the words came out of Snape's mouth through gritted teeth. 

Harry saw an opportunity and interrupted “My parents died in a car crash Sir.” polite, the man had always demanded respect. “Who is Dumbledore?” and he’d done it there was a crack as the man lost control of his magic. The cupboard door cracked in two, Snape’s magic was so thick in the air that Harry could almost taste it. He looked at Snape whose lips had thinned alarmingly. 

“Get your things were leaving.” the words were clipped; Snape was having trouble containing himself. Harry scrambled to his feet; well, this would be interesting. 

While Harry gathered his possessions, Severus Snape waited in the hallway his thoughts far away crashing against the boundaries of his occlumency shields. This was not what he had expected when he had left his office this morning. As they walked down the hall to leave Number 4 Privet Drive they passed Aunt Petunia who was trying to become one with the floral wallpaper of the hall. Severus loomed over her as Harry stood on the doorstep, he leant over her pushing into her personal space to whisper in her ear. “You will be hearing from me Tuney.” And with that he swept passed her before throwing a scornful look back at the Dursley home, the older man taking Harry’s smaller hand in his before disapparating with a crack. 

They materialized in a place unfamiliar to Harry. Snape had obviously decided that he needed to take a moment to ascertain the true level of Harry’s woeful ignorance of the magical world and if possible, remedy it before thrusting it upon an entirely unsuspecting child. They were in a small living room, it was clean, meticulously so but still had the air of somewhere unlived in and uncared for. The décor had certainly not been updated recently Harry thought as he took in the faded brown sofa and paisley pattern of the orange and brown carpet. Snape gestured for Harry to take a seat before sweeping from the room. Harry could hear the man pacing back and forth in what must be the kitchen, this was a muggle home it must have belonged to Snape’s parents then he thought. 

Harry almost would have felt sorry for Snape if the man would’ve allowed it. The man had been expecting a spoilt carbon copy of James Potter and probably geared himself up for a day of tolerance and snide remarks. Instead, he had been confronted with a cupboard, a stark reminder of the circumstances of his own childhood and Lily’s eyes looking at him accusingly from a too thin face. Honestly, who had looked at Snape and thought it was ok to give the man the impossible, herculean task of shouldering his own staggering grief and explaining the circumstances of the death of the Potters to their child. Lily’s child. Harry wanted to strangle them.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus Snape was pacing his kitchen, making tea the muggle way to occupy his hands which were otherwise clenching and unclenching into involuntary fists, was going through much the same if more expletive ridden thought process. His grief and guilt crushing at his ribcage and crawling up his throat making it hard to breath. He busied himself putting together a tea tray, brown and white patterned china and a monstrosity of a teapot shaped like a chicken. God, he hated this place, he didn’t know why he’d kept it or why he’d come here of all places. Looking out the window away from Spinners End at the row of terraced houses lining the rise of the hill towards the rest of Cokesworth he knew why. He leaned heavily on the countertop by the sink and heaved a deep sigh. 

Severus went back through to the faded living room and placed the tea set down on the coffee table before drawing up a chair opposite the boy. Harry. They sat in silence for a moment taking the measure of each other. He looked at the boy who was sat straight with a blank expression on his face looking right back at Severus. He flickered his legilimency out but it just slid off the boy’s mind, off shields that by all rights shouldn’t be there. He was beginning to feel decidedly unnerved. 

He heard the boy speak quietly breaking the moment of tension, “So, you’re a wizard. And there are other people, people like us? People with magic.” He took a slow sip of his tea. 

Severus blinked, letting the previous thought go as he focused on the child in front of him looking so serious. Setting his teacup down with a soft clink of the china. He focused on a spot slightly above the boy’s left eyebrow, not quite able to bring himself to look directly at those eyes again yet, “Indeed, Mr Potter. There are men and women all over the world, witches and wizards as we call them who have magic. You yourself will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to learn to control your magic and hone your craft.” 

“Were my parents magical?” 

Severus’ heart skipped a beat and not in the good way. He thought he might have a stroke the way his heart was pounding. 

He made his decision. They couldn’t hide the truth from the boy, he was infamous for Merlin’s sake. The minute they set foot in Diagon Alley he would be mobbed. He just wished that someone else, anyone else had been the one to pick up this section of the list of incoming muggle raised students. Or, his mind supplied resentfully, that Albus had been considerate enough to realise this case would need special attention. He swallowed. 

“You were told your parents died in a car crash.” Not a question but he received a small, wary nod of confirmation from the boy. 

“That is incorrect. Your parents, Lily and James were magical, we went to school together.” he paused feeling like he was going to step off a cliff “There was a war amongst wizards. It became brutal. Your parents were murdered in their home on the eve of Samhain 1981 by the Dark Lord. A wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort who was the leader of the wizards rebelling against those currently in power. There was a prophesy. The prophesy named you as the one who would be his downfall. He sought you out and your family was betrayed by the one who held the secret of your location. When he turned his wand on you to kill you, his spell rebounded, you were left with that scar and he has not been heard from since.” he kept talking, Severus thought if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to get it all out and the boy deserved to know, he needed to be prepared. “You are the only known person to have survived such a curse. As such you are famed in our world.” 

The only sound breaking the silence was soft breaths, it seemed like it went on forever. The boy had lowered his eyes and looked like he was searching for the answers to the world in the bottom of his tea cup. Who knows, it’s as good a place as any to look. They were sat there quietly for long minutes. Severus was complicit in this he thought, the guilt clawing at his throat again ‘I was the one who delivered the prophesy. I did this.’ he couldn’t say it. What he could do was prepare the boy. He could see the boy was concealing his reactions, not ready to trust Severus with that yet perhaps. ‘A Slytherin for sure’ the thought ran through his mind. Not that that would be unexpected from what he had seen of his upbringing. 

Albus would certainly not agree with how he had told the boy. Albus would have delivered the information in unequivocally _frustrating_ dribs and drabs over lemon drops and grandfatherly smiles; not like a gavel coming down striking a life sentence. But he couldn’t bring himself to let the child walk into this blind – that said he would have to get the child’s eyesight checked today as well, those glasses were atrocious. 

The child finally looked up from behind a curtain of messy black curls and Severus knew he had made the right choice as he searched his face, the boy had taken the information stoically and there was a look of determination in those deep green eyes; so like Lily's. 

“Will you help me?” said the boy – no Harry 

“In such ways as I can.” 

“We have to go for the things on my school list now don’t we? Is there a way to hide my scar? You said I'm famous because of it. Because my parents are dead. I’m not ready. And people somehow think I defeated this wizard before I could even talk. I don’t know enough about this world yet.” 

Severus nodded curtly, seeing that focusing his mind on the practical issues at hand was how the child was processing. He seemed like a smart boy and not very trusting of adults. 

“Of course. Shall we depart?” 

Harry nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

The interior of Flourish and Blott had that comforting smell of parchment and fresh ink, it was slightly too warm, paper birds were swarming overhead and there was a buzz of excitement as children rushed back and forth among the stacks searching out their schoolbooks for the year. Narcissa Malfoy smiled indulgently at her little prince; only a slight upturn at the corners of her lips but there was a softness around her eyes if you were looking. Draco was so funny, a miniature of his father, or trying to be at least. It was less impressive when you were 4ft 11. His nose was up in the air pontificating to the Parkinson's little girl, Pansy hanging off his every word. They were adorable. Narcissa was watching the children while Lucius took care of some business in Knockturn Alley. The Parkinsons having gone on ahead to make a lunch reservation at Perthro. She ran her eyes over the crowd, taking in the people around her and caught sight of a tall dark-haired man in swooping black robes. 

“Wait here darling, don’t move.” She tapped her son on his shoulder. 

Severus looked...Off. That was the only way to describe it. It was very unlike Sev not to acknowledge her, in fact if she hadn’t thought it was impossible, she’d say he hadn’t even registered her. She made her way around the circular shelves towards the man who was conversing in that quiet way of his with the child beside him, who had his full attention she could see. Strange; Severus had many qualities she admired. He did not have a fondness for interacting with children, an unfortunate quality in a school teacher. The child itself was small, first year then, certainly muggle raised. Rather delicate looking child, dark wavy hair and vivid green eyes. Awful ill-fitting clothes. She coughed quietly. 

“Severus! It’s such a pleasure to see you, we weren’t expecting to run into you today.” 

“Lady Malfoy” he said lowly with a short bow. 

“Come now Severus, please do introduce me to your charge here.” she wanted to know who this child was that had managed to capture Severus Snapes undivided attention. There was tension there too, she could smell it. Lucius might be the politician of the two but he was greatly aided by his wife’s sharp eye for the subtle tides of society. She extended her hand to the child. 

“Harry, Harry Evans, I'm very pleased to meet you Lady Malfoy.” he bent to kiss the air above her hand. Over the child’s head she caught Severus’ eye with a sharp look, he looked uncomfortable, she raised an eyebrow feeling a flash of concern sweep across her face. 

This child’s name was certainly not Evans. She held Severus’ gaze raising her hand lightly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear lingering on her right earlobe. A signal they had used years before in tense, dangerous meetings. ‘We need to talk’. Severus sighed wearily. 

The bright morning had given way to heavier skies drizzling warm summer rain. Harry looked up at the sky as they moved between stores gathering his Hogwarts supplies. He had an enormous amount of respect for Narcissa Malfoy. It would be a cold day in hell before he forgot the moment the woman had looked the Dark Lord Voldemort, a man so feared people wouldn’t even say his name, dead in the eye and bare-faced lied. She was a formidable woman and he had spoken up at her trial, it had been one of the earlier ones and his influence had counted at that time. While Lucius had been sentenced to Azkaban, Harry’s testimony had swung the sentence to house arrest only for Narcissa and Draco. 

He blinked as the rain fell on his face and ran into his eyes, the sensation strange without his glasses. After stopping at Gringott’s where Harry had feigned ignorance of goblin customs and the goblins had played along, sensing with their customary acuteness that he did not want to reveal his status to his companion, Snape had taken him straight to a magical optician round a corner Harry had never noticed before. Several tests, one occulus sanneo later and a lot of gold lighter Harry’s vision had been corrected. Apparently, it could only be done before a certain age and once again Harry pushed aside a tendril of irritation towards his earlier ignorance of the magical world he lived in. 

They had parted ways with the Malfoys outside Flourish and Blott much earlier but Harry suspected he would be seeing them shortly. He hadn’t had to say much after the introductions where he had caught the tightening of Narcissa’s hand on Draco’s shoulder when the latter had begun to sneer after he had introduced himself as ‘Evans’. After an encouraging smile from his mother the blonde had decided his friendship must be deemed desirable for whatever reason and had begun prattling on. Harry found it quite nostalgic he thought as he trailed after Snape’s long strides. 

The man's company had been surprisingly pleasant Harry thought. Harry had asked a lot of questions to Snape, he wanted to maintain the act of someone new to the wizarding world and had listened carefully to the man’s answers. While terse and sarcastic still his responses had been well thought out and informative. It seemed his venom was no longer to be aggressively directed at Harry. He let his thoughts slide away over the topic as they made their way to Madam Malkin’s Snape having deemed it too crowded earlier in the day, not wanting to join ‘the herd’. 

Narcissa was waiting for them at Madam Malkin’s. She and Draco had separated from the Parkinsons after lunch as they had had another engagement to get to and Lucius had called one of the family house elfs to take their purchases home before heading to the ministry himself to check in on his office. As soon as the boys were settled standing on stools, tape measure flying around them as Malkin fussed with the hem of Draco’s robe she withdrew to one side of the shop appearing to examine the different fabrics on offer for tailored clothing and signaled for Severus to join her. 

She waited as he threw up a quick muffliato, you could never be too careful, before taking him gently by the wrist. “Evans?” she said and waited knowingly. Severus had become like a brother to her over the years, as god-father to her son he was family and Narcissa had a long memory. 

“Potter” he answered resigned to her interrogation. Good. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the confirmation. She had guessed certainly; it was the logical conclusion but that wasn’t the only observation she had made of the boy. She waited patiently for him to continue. 

“His muggle relatives...Merlin I..they were keeping him in a cupboard under the stairs...He didn’t know...they had told him James and Lily died in a car crash of all things Cissy.” Oh Severus, her eyes had been wide, but her lips thinned as her dear friend came to the end of what he had needed to tell her earlier. It was unusual for him to be so incoherent but now she understood why. They would figure it out like they always did. However, if she knew Severus Snape, which she did he would not be returning the boy to where he came from tonight and stubborn as he was would never admit he needed company and support just now. 

“You are both welcome to join us at the manor this evening, in fact I insist.” Let him wiggle out of this one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit slow coming out and ended up kind of being filler. Dunno got a bit stuck :)

Harry looked up at the folds of light blue silk making up the canopy hanging over the four-poster bed he was lying in. They looked like waves he thought, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He felt a tight knot of guilt curl in his gut, Snape had been so quick to take him away from the Dursleys and Narcissa to welcome him into her home, even knowing who he really was, which she clearly had. They had remedied that mis-introduction on returning to Malfoy manor. Draco’s face had been a picture. Harry snorted softly. 

He had never liked being dishonest, it didn’t come naturally to him. And he was used to surviving independently of the adults around him, he wasn’t used to people trying to take care of him and it made his chest tighten. Least of all Snape. He shut his eyes willing away the memory of blood, hot and red on the floor of the shrieking shack. 

He lay on his back listening to the creaks and groans of the old house. He could use this opportunity to get his hands on the first piece of Voldemort's soul. The largest soul piece. The diary was in the library here. The diadem he could collect at Hogwarts. He had access to the locket at Grimauld place and could use his illusioned heir ring to portkey him through the wards there. The ring he wore already hidden on the index finger of his left hand. The cup was a problem. It would be the most difficult of the horcruxes for him to access. He pushed himself up on his elbows then swung his legs out over the side of the bed. Harry set out on bare feet on wooden floorboards, creeping out of his room through the heavy door which creaked slightly and shut with a soft click behind him. 

Harry padded quietly down the hallway, keeping close to the wall as he passed a doorway under which soft firelight flickered and quiet voices issued. Part of him wanted to stop and listen to the soft murmurs. He kept going his heart beating quickly in his breast. The warmth of the room receding as the distance opened up between them, the floorboards growing cold again beneath his feet. The corridor went on and on, he crept passed slumbering portraits until he turned a left and stopped, his breath caught for a moment. 

It was beautiful, the corridor had opened up into a hallway, one side of which was entirely floor to ceiling windows and the view was breathtaking; reaching over tamed gardens and out onto rolling fields, the sky a deep midnight blue and clouds rolling lazily across a bright moon which seemed almost too round, too full to be real. It felt like he could see every star in the sky; a masterpiece untouched by human hands. 

In the drawing room the hearth crackled comfortingly, Severus sat back in a winged leather chair and watched the shifting of the logs and the occasional spark of coal bulleting past the guard to land by his feet. One side of his body was almost too warm, he could feel the heat on his face from the fire flickering beside him. The glass in his hand felt cool with the large ball of ice floating in the amber liquid within. 

Narcissa was leaning on the armrest of a deep, green sofa her eyes fixed on her friend “Knut for your thoughts Severus?” she said finally, trying to draw him out. 

“He’s different than I thought he would be Cissy. Very reserved. And there’s something I cannot put my finger on yet.” 

She nodded acknowledging his point, then tilted her head to the side “That is only to be expected Sev, you told me who he was raised by and how he has been treated. He’s very polite all things considered. You yourself were not the most forthcoming of children if I might remind you...remember that time you spiked ‘Dromeda’s pumpkin juice for, and I quote ‘mothering’ you, you sulked in that spare classroom in the dungeons for a week. Not that much has changed there” she said dryly. “Give him time it’s a big adjustment.” 

“Hmm” he took a slow sip from his glass. 

Narcissa sat up and leaned forward to him “You can’t change what has already passed. You would not have been allowed to raise Harry, Sev, you know that. Not with that mark on your arm.” 

His eyes darkened and flickered towards the doorway. 

“Severus?” 

He held up one hand in a cautionary gesture, setting his glass to one side and rising to his feet. He’d seen a shadow pass at the foot of the doorway, he crossed the room, put his ear to the wooden panel of the door and listened as soft footsteps faded away down the hallway. He waited a minute then followed robes rustling against the floorboards. 

“It’s quite a sight don’t you agree?” Harry inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the low voice coming from the darkness behind him, shoulders stiffening. 

Severus walked to join the boy looking out the window gazing out at the view. He hesitated then rested one hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“hmm” 

He looked away from the moon and down at the top of the boy’s head and his unruly dark hair in contemplation. He felt the boy relax slowly under the weight of his palm. They stood side by side for a long while. He would be there for this child. Merlin knows it was unlikely to be an easy life, something Severus would know all too well. “Come on back to bed. It will be a long day tomorrow. I will wake you in the morning before we head to the train station.” They turned and he guided the boy back to his rooms.

Harry heard the door close with a click behind him and lay back again under the blue silk awning. Tonight had been unsuccessful but he knew the layout of the manor better now. It was probably for the best anyway; to avoid drawing attention to his horcrux search before he found a way to retrieve the cup. He would try again to retrieve the diary at Yule. He closed his eyes and let sleep pull him away.


End file.
